TWEETS TO KEATS
Mr. Keats, you are confused.
I'm glad you like my song,
And yet the premise of your poem
Is simply, flat-out wrong.
We nightingales live just two years.
Your jealousy's misplaced.
While human beings feast on life,
We birds have just a taste.
So even if you get TB
And die at twenty-five,
Don't be envious of me:
I will not be alive.
Last edited by Roger Slater; 11-24-2010 at 12:52 PM.
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